


dear my blue

by aeinlookalike



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeinlookalike/pseuds/aeinlookalike
Summary: dear sandalphon, what would you tell your past self?what would you save him from, if you could?





	dear my blue

**Author's Note:**

> you were a vision in the morning when the light came through,  
> i know I've only felt religion when I've lied with you.

Sit down, he would tell himself, a self that is not him, but also is. Sit down and listen, because I can only tell you this once. Bite that toxicity aside for right now, he already knows he cries inside.

He would claw his way back to the surface, no longer alone. He would face adversaries, no longer alone. In memorandum, Sandalphon would not weep except just once, and that time would affect him most of all. For his one and only.

But Sandalphon remembers too.

Sandalphon would not tell his own self anything else. Tell him what? That his anger is unrighteous? That he is in the wrong? That he might listen to all that? “Everything would be fine, everything will be alright”? Tell that to the face of someone who wished death upon others just because of rendered time and judgement. When he is erased from softness and dreams and everything else is gone. He is a stain and a blight, but he had known that too, back then.

Give him an angry death, God. Whoever is out there. If he prayed every night, he would’ve wished it could ease the hurt within him and let everyone else know his wrath. For all that Sandalphon’s done wrong, let them know he’s been offended too. Let him have died with a curse on everyone else's’ names, especially one. 

Wading through the leaves of green and sunny days to something as glorious as the red sky and that revenge is blistering, but it is sweet too, because it is something he can feel. Something that Sandalphon had a grasp of, in that maelstrom of suffocation, when he could not find his purpose, his worthiness, his place to belong. 

Am I then, he thinks, more imperfect than I realize? If he could not exist for his sole reason to simply live and question that on top of these other emotions, does he have to know? These lingering thoughts stay too long, and it only feeds into his confusing anger. Nearsighted and untrue, Sandalphon exists due to a whim. How pathetic. For another year he would never see to want to believe that again. There was no desire though, to be taken back and be ignorant of those things. If his life is proof of something ambitious simply because it is, then he would show them ambitious. When the skies are torn apart and islands cave from a weight, when others could die on their own as alone as he did, then Sandalphon would claim it his. His proof of life, his way of being.

In those lightning moments of grief where it is not something breakable, Sandalphon grieves on his own. From those glass-darkened cavities of a mind, he covers his ears. Where would he go? Where would he go? For how much longer would he continue? The dark has never been in his memory, but now it ghosts on the edge of a soundless unbirth. A feverish wish, almost, just because there is nothing else in view. Nothing at all.

The world where Lucifer is in... Sandalphon realizes he wants to kick it down. Sever it and leave it to rot. For, it is too perfect, too overwhelming, too existential. Unlike him. That garden only stirs bitterness, and yet, the other might still write of hope, again and again, if he had actually cared to see. For everything that Sandalphon could not and will never be. Lucifer, he wants to scream, what was I to you?

_Sandalphon, although I could not convey to you back then, I…_

But in that blue sky where everything else has remained since then, Sandalphon listens. 

A white feather slips by and for a second, Sandalphon believes it to be real. As he reaches out to touch it, it breathes out and is gone in the breeze, as if it had never existed at all. The sky mingles with the sweeping lace of the clouds and its intimacy in the air. 

And then he says goodbye, remembering their remarks to each other. Just for now. Not forever. Even if it hurts, his heart remembers the swell of love too.

_Lucifer, I’m going out for a bit!_


End file.
